


Taxus baccata

by veridian



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28665993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veridian/pseuds/veridian
Summary: A collection of short pieces about Robin Hood for Fate Week 2021.Day 1: Hero/Villain"Mama and Papa said he used to be a hero."The huntsman barks out a short laugh. "Nah," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "That guy's always just been a murderer. Only out to prove something, you know?""Then why's he gotta drag all of us into it?" she asks."That's the question, isn't it," he murmurs.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: Fate Week 2021 Fic Collection





	1. forest of corpses

Being a huntsman isn't easy, but someone has to do it. The worst part about it is when a trap is full, but the creature inside it isn't quite dead yet—caught by the foot, perhaps, or stuck swinging upside down, or groaning at the bottom of a pit. It's those times the huntsman hates the most, when he has to notch a bolt into his crossbow and take careful aim, eyes staring through his prey, hearing nothing in the heat of the moment but knowing he'll hear them begging for their lives in his nightmares.

He catches sight of himself in a stream on the way back, and he wonders when he started looking just as monstrous as the creatures in his traps.

The village doesn't see it, though. To them, he's the man who brings them their pelts and their meat, who they let keep an eye on their children when they're busy on errands despite his status as an outsider. His smile is friendly and easy; there's no way he could be the criminal who keeps bringing down the wrath of the nobility soundly onto them.

"What's the matter, kid?" he asks one of the children he's been asked to watch today. She's in a bad mood; granted, everyone is these days, but children deserve, at least, to have easy lives.

"When's Robin Hood gonna disappear?" she asks him, pouting.

"Who knows," the huntsman says, sighing. When she looks up to respond to him, he's looking elsewhere.

"Mama and Papa said he used to be a hero."

The huntsman barks out a short laugh. "Nah," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "That guy's always just been a murderer. Only out to prove something, you know?"

"Then why's he gotta drag all of us into it?" she asks.

"That's the question, isn't it," he murmurs.

Why does Robin Hood do what he does? The huntsman himself isn't too sure. It isn't for money, which he always redistributes. It isn't for fame—especially now that the people he decided to protect hate him so much. Is it really worth it to continue? Wouldn't it be better to fade into the darkness, sudden as he came, and stop this cycle of misery?

"Mama and Papa might be a little late today," the girl says, eyes lighting up as she remembers a message she was supposed to deliver an hour or two ago, when they dropped her off. "The king's men took all our crops, so they have to go and barter."

"Is that so."

No matter how many times he thinks about it, he always arrives at the same answer: it's no different than his job. It's not easy, but someone has to do it.

When the child's parents retrieve her, the huntsman slips a small pouch of coin in with the supplies he gave them as they depart. It's not much—it's been harder ever since the village decided to cooperate with sniffing him out. He's stealing less and less every time.

The way he sees it, it's only a matter of time before he's caught. They might even put two and two together as soon as they get home and unbundle their order. He makes his peace with the thought of his death every time he goes out for his extracurricular hunting, hood obscuring his face, only the light of a hastily rolled cigarette illuminating the night sky.

For all the people he's killed with the bow of yew strapped to his arm, there's only one person in the world who knows what it's made of, after all. There's only one person who understands the message Robin Hood is trying to convey.

The day drags on. The last of the children he's in charge of watching for the day go home, and the huntsman carefully folds his pelts. The people of the village bid him a friendly, but distant, farewell, as always.

When he reaches the edges of Sherwood Forest, the huntsman dies for the evening, and Robin Hood lives again. Death, rebirth, repeating endlessly every night, akin to a yew branch drooping to the ground and creating another tree in its wake; he leaves an ever-growing number of them behind every time he puts the cloak on. A veritable forest lies behind him, quiet and still, and a literal forest spreads as far as he can see in front of him, equally silent as the grave.

He hears the telltale snapping branches and startled scream of someone falling into a pitfall. He loads a bolt into his crossbow.

Someday, the yew tree will die before it is able to reach the ground. But tonight, there is justice to be done.


	2. the burning of sherwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> changing the order slightly. this is day 3, "defeat/victory", which i also managed to work "holy grail" into as well.
> 
> i love dan blackmore ok

"Archer."

Robin glances up from under his cloak. It's unusual for his Master to address him when they're in their personal room; the tension between them is one you could cut with a knife. "What?" he asks warily.

"What is your wish for the grail?"

Robin snorts, removing a cigarette from one of his many hidden pockets. "Who needs a thing like that? I'm way more interested in what your wish is, Mr. Knight."

Dan Blackmore sighs to himself, suddenly looking smaller. "The truth is…"

"Whoa, whoa." Robin holds up a hand. "I didn't mean it. Isn't it best if we don't get too friendly with each other? Ain't like we're gonna win, either, if you don't play to do it—no sense in getting to know a guy who's as interested in dying as you are."

"Archer," Dan says again. There's the tone Robin's come to expect. The corners of his mouth turn up in a self-satisfied smirk; Dan's face remains serious as always. "It's not worth doing if we don't do it right."

"Your funeral." Robin lights his cigarette. "And mine. You really think I can take that Servant in a fair fight?"

Dan is quiet for a long while; Robin is sure he's won the argument. Just as he readies a biting piece of wit to follow, his Master shakes his head. "Even so. I don't deserve what it is I wish for if I do it dishonorably."

"Because there's such a thing as an honorable murder," Robin mutters. "It's just like I thought. I really can't stand you, old man."

"As long as you follow my orders, there's no need for you to like me."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that."

Dan gives Robin a sidelong that he can feel even through the bangs and hood in his face. "My wish," he starts again; this time Robin lets him speak. "My wish is to see my wife again."

"Your wife…?" Robin frowns. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this isn't it.

"Perhaps it's just the foolish desire of an equally foolish old man," Dan says, wistfully, "but I want it more than anything in the world. And I know she would be disappointed in me if I were to obtain that chance through underhanded methods."

Robin doesn't know how to respond. To trample on such a simple wish seems ill-sporting, even for someone like him.

"Surely your wish is grander than mine. You are Robin Hood, after all." Dan seems encouraging, almost, even after Robin has given him nothing but trouble.

"Sorry," Robin says, the words slipping out of his mouth like a cobra spitting poison—one and the same, in self defense. "I already told you there's nothing I want, right? I'm just a crook who stole the good name of someone else, so put any thoughts about how great my wish could be right outta your skull."

Dan gives him another long look, then stands. "Very well. Suit yourself, Archer. As long as you're willing to cooperate, I suppose I don't need to know."

The memory is vivid, even in Robin's last moments in the Grail War. It was the first time they'd ever had something resembling a real conversation.

He can't bear to bring himself to tell his Master now, even as the two of them slowly disintegrate, that the situation is so grotesquely unfair.

He had wondered the whole time why it was that the two of them had been assigned to one another. What part of Dan's soul had called out to his, and why had Robin been compelled to answer? This chivalrous, stuck-up knight had been nothing but a hindrance, all along; they had butted heads at every opportunity, unable to come to a consensus on a single thing.

Dan asks himself if what he'd really wanted was to see his wife again, or to chase after the man he was before he was a soldier.

Robin is grateful the corruption of his data has spread over his mouth; that way, no one can see the miserable, painful smile that would otherwise be stretching across it. In the end, they wanted the same thing—to have never given up their humanity at all—

If only he'd realized sooner. He's sure, he's sure without a doubt, that the man who existed before Robin Hood would have.

It's such a shame Robin can't even remember his name anymore.


End file.
